She believes in dreamcatchers and cowboy boots
She hangs a dreamcatcher over the driftwood logs while she sunbaths;

she is not known for certainty, or destiny, or
allegory, but she wears vintage and the villagers
leave her alone to the lavender farms and the
rocky alcoves where she says nothing but
sighs only when the moths land on her,

she believes in cowboy boots with religious
fervor, she believes that all of the abandoned
pairs littering the thrift stores must be saved,
and she'll keep even the most weathered on them,
adorn them with paint or glitter, or quilt patterns
that she sows sometimes.

She does not make her cloths, but some people
think she does.

She was reading De Sade when most people where
playing video games, but they did not know she was.

In the winter she wears ornate floppy hats, writing
with henna across her arms and legs, in
the winter she still goes down to the salt beach,
she watches the repairs to the lighthouse, hunts
for starfish, and listens to the sashay of the
water as it wraps cold hands around her ankles,
she doesn't pretend to make plans,
the dreamcatcher keeps her hopes inside its
feathers and nets, she keeps it on hand,
just in case.